sometimes I feel like getting out all of my chickflicks and watching only the painful bits, stopping Love Actually before all the happy endings unravel, stopping Two Weeks Notice at the point where she lets him walk away, stopping Sliding Doors at the point where she's dead, skipping through Jane Austen Book Club to all the angsty bits and leaving out the closure scenes. stopping Notting Hill when she asks him to love her and he says no.
Soak myself in indecision, pain, betrayal, bitterness and tears.

But I am at the point where exhaustion and emotional agony are just happily getting each other confused, just like hunger and boredom, victory and guilt. And I know I have it easy, which makes it feel all the worse.

And I am completely aware of how unbelievably self-centred and self-destructive this all is. And it makes utterly no difference to my behaviour, a lifelong pattern in which thinking and doing have either come together or failed to come together'  and truthfully, it makes absolutely no difference which.